The land of green ginger

Magic was once my favourite word
That long ago time, when dreams flew about.
I loved every tune my ear ever heard
And voices sang all around, inside and out.

With only a breath of a wish I could climb
To peak on each mountain and slide down the frost
I needed no answers, no reason to rhyme
But I’m starting to fear that this time I have lost.

The lonely existence I now seek to fill
With fragments of stories, my paperback friends,
Seems further away from what little I still
Remember from those tangled, twisted loose ends.

I wonder and wander around and about
And puzzle at what things have stolen away
The dreams and ideas that did glitter and shout
Throughout every night and during every day.

Dancing around the bedroom in my pyjamas

Dancing around the bedroom in my pyjamas I pause to pirouette, feeling the scrape of the carpet, crumb-covered, beneath the ball of my blister-blighted foot, and I am beautiful. Without makeup, without mirrors, with no one to look at me or to stroke my ever-hungry ego, I breathe in the stale, book-dusty air, hear the tinny music of the radio, spy your socks on the floor, and, tutting to myself, march proudly onward to face the morning.